


Tackle

by HalfASlug



Series: Back [8]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9905423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfASlug/pseuds/HalfASlug
Summary: It's a beautiful day for the beautiful game. For everyone besides Hardy of course.





	

No matter how hard Hardy tried to avoid it, his life always ended up including football. From his dad insisting he could master the apparently vital life skill of heading a ball, to his PE teacher informing him his education would not be complete until he put himself between a net and speeding object the size of his head, to every colleague thinking Saturday’s game was the key to making small talk with him, the damned sport had haunted him.

Even now, while he was working and by all logic should’ve been safe, he found himself at the sidelines, pretending to find any enjoyment from watching people he half-knew work up a sweat and running backwards and forwards.

At least he wasn’t being forced to participate, he thought to himself.

Miller had mentioned the charity game being held on the beach a few times over the last week and he had hoped ignoring her would show how much he wanted to attend but somehow he had ended up being dragged there after picking up some lunch from Tesco.

“We don’t have to watch the whole thing,” she had insisted as they trudged towards the makeshift pitch. “It’s just I promised Tom I’d try and see some of it.”

“Couldn’t you just watch the highlights on Match of the Day?” he’d grumbled.

“It’s for charity. Stop being such an arsehole. Besides, I know at least two of our suspects will be there and I thought it might be worth seeing how they interact.”

After that, he’d stopped complaining. Out loud, anyway.

He was snapped out of his inner-whinging when Miller cheered loudly next to him. Quickly focussing his attention on the pitch, he saw Tom grinning and being slapped on the back by a man he didn’t recognise. To avoid Miller’s wrath, he hastily clapped along with the rest of the spectators.

“Hey.” Miller nudged him as though he couldn’t hear her when she was stood next to him. “Is that who I think it is?”

She nodded towards the bench and Hardy immediately spotted his daughter. It was strange to see her wearing football shorts and a bib, but the ever present phone in her hand reassured him that it wasn’t just some girl that looked suspiciously like Daisy.

“Did you know she was playing?”

Hardy nodded.

“Why didn’t you say when I was talking about the match? Don’t you want to see her play?”

“Thought I was the one that asked too many questions at once.”

Before Miller could respond a cry from the pitch signalled that a boy had twisted his ankle and was being helped off by two of the adult players. There was a short conversation between those gathered around the injured player as he received first aid until Daisy nodded, stowed her phone under the bench and headed onto the pitch.

Hardy’s heart was warmed when he saw her scan the crowd until her eyes found him. He inclined his head towards her and she gave him a rare smile before throwing herself into the game.

Miller watched the interaction with a baffled look on her face. “You’ve never mentioned her being into football before. Is she any good?”

The hint at his tight-lipped nature wasn’t missed. Daisy meeting Miller made him more nervous than it should have done. After years of separation, he was finally being the father he desperately wanted to be. Throwing Miller into the mix complicated everything. Daisy already suspected he harboured a soft spot for the woman who, at the end of the day, was his boss. What would she think of the way he failed to even hint towards his feelings? Even worse, would she start hinting towards his feelings?

And then there was Miller. He’d seen numerous examples of the fiercely loving and protective mother she was. Would seeing his patched up relationship with his daughter make him look like a failure in her eyes?

No matter what he thought, the pair of them would be spending time in the same frustratingly small town together. It was about time he learned to get used to it.

“She’s not bad.”

On the pitch, Tom intercepted a pass and charged up the field towards his opponents goal. As he looked up to see what options he had, Daisy came from the side and tackled him, leaving him sprawled on the ground. Tom was still righting himself when Daisy, fresh from flying past his team’s defenders, lobbed the keeper and scored.

She smiled as she accepted a hug from Beth Latimer, but otherwise made no celebration.

“Bloody hell,” cried Miller. “Was that even legal?”

“I think so.” In truth, Hardy had no idea, but none of the people who liked the game had reacted so he guessed he wasn’t going to have to arrest his only child for assault.

“Where did she learn to do that?”

“Certainly not from me. I’m Scottish.”

The ref blew the whistle, signalling half time and Tom rushed over to the pair of them with a scowl. As he approached, Hardy was surprised at how he was nearly as tall he was now. It was odd remembering the small boy he’d seen crying into his mother’s shoulder many years before.

“Did you see that girl?” Tom exclaimed as Miller hugged him. “She tried to break my leg!”

Hardy glanced at the girl in question and saw she had returned to the bench and was once again on her phone, ignoring everyone around her.

“Nah,” chuckled Miller. “If she’d been trying I think she would have succeeded.”

“Who even is she?”

Miller passed him some water from her bag and tried to rub some of the sand off his face. “I think her name is Daisy, sweetheart.”

Tom frowned. “Daisy who?”

“Hardy.”

“What?” Tom glanced at Hardy as he tried to keep his face as neutral as possible. Slowly, realisation dawned on Tom. “No!”

“Yep.”

“She can’t be!” Tom turned to his mother, hoping for her to reveal they were joking. “No way could she play like that and be Scottish!”

“Okay, someone is going to have to explain this Scottish thing to me...”

Hardy tuned the Millers’ conversation out, wishing to have no part in explaining the rivalry people had been expecting him to take seriously ever since he moved south of the border over twenty years ago. Luckily for him, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Hopefully, their attention was about to be brought back to the case.

He was surprised to see Daisy’s name on his screen.

_that ellies kid?_

Looking over at the bench, he saw Daisy watching him. He nodded. Daisy typed something inhumanly quickly on her phone and soon his own vibrated again.

_i was just practising. arent big sisters are supposed to give their little brothers shit?_

Her smirk was visible even from a distance.

_You aren’t too old to be put into care,_ he replied.

She read the text. If anything, it made her look more smug. It was terrifying.

Hardy pocketed his phone, and vowed to do everything within his power to keep Daisy from being alone with Miller.  


End file.
